


Nice

by oh_johnny



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_johnny/pseuds/oh_johnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul is fed up with being called the nice one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic at the lj comm beatlesslash.

John followed Paul into the bedroom, still laughing.

“Cut it out, will ya?” growled Paul.

“Oh, but really Paul. If they only knew.”

“I can’t help what they think, can I?”

“No, but just listen to them,” John continued, slipping now into the voice of a middle-aged Liverpool housewife, “Ooh that Paul McCartney. So cheeky. But such a nice boy, really.”

“I am not a nice boy.”

“Used to live down the road from us. Got into all kinds of trouble, boys will be boys. He was always so polite, though, when he came around to apologize.”

“I am not a fucking nice boy!”

“The things he said sometimes. Well! But then, he had a difficult life didn’t he. You’ve got to be understanding.”

Paul growled and rounded on John, pushing him up against the wall. Closing in, he pushed his hands up under the other’s shirt, thrust a thigh in between his legs, took John’s mouth in his, claiming it for his own. John groaned, his hands circling Paul’s waist, sliding down to grab his ass, pull him closer still. 

Paul broke the kiss, licked a line down John’s jaw, fastened his mouth on his neck.

John, free to talk again, continued his line of dialogue, “Always fiddling around with that guitar. Well, who knew he’d actually be able to make any money with that? Don’t fancy that crowd he hangs around with though – they’ll lead him astray they will, and him such a nice boy.”

“For the last fucking time, I am not a nice boy.”

“Prove it.”

Paul reached down a hand and rubbed through the cloth at John’s growing erection. In what seemed like one flowing coordinated move he undid belt, button, zipper, pulled the jeans and underwear away, knelt, and took John into his mouth. He looked up and saw John watching him, his lips parted, breathing ragged. He licked the length of the shaft, flicked his tongue around the tip, then took it in his mouth again. John’s hips started to move, and Paul’s mouth moved with him, establishing a rhythm, sucking, sliding, taking him in as far as he could, tasting all of John. 

“Paul…God…don’t…stop…oh…ahhh…please……”

He came in a rush, his head arched back against the wall, cock buried in Paul’s mouth.

Paul swallowed, stood, kissed John’s jaw, cheek, eyelids, mouth. Turning, he pulled the other man across the room, pushed him face down on the bed, pulled off all remaining clothing, kissed his way along John’s spine. He paused for a minute, reaching across his lover’s body to fumble in the bedside table drawer, pulling out a tube of Vaseline.

He fastened his lips on John’s earlobe, sucked, making John gasp.

He growled, “Nice boys don’t suck dick.”

He pushed one lubed finger into John, then another, then a third.

“And they don’t fuck their best friends up the ass.”

He removed his fingers, coated his cock with more Vaseline and pushed it into John, pausing to make sure John was ready.

Then...

They rocked together, increasing the pace as they strained to meet each other, to possess and be possessed completely, moaning, hands locked together, Paul’s mouth on John’s neck, John gasping out pleas to not stop, not ever stop, until Paul climaxed into him.

Paul collapsed on John’s back, buried his head in his neck, resting for a moment. Then he pulled away, rolled onto his back, and pulled John over to rest on top of him. They lay like that, entwined in each other’s arms, as their breathing normalized. 

“Paul?”

“Mnm?”

“That was nice.”

“Bastard.”


End file.
